


Sad Songs

by Arlene0401



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, carpenter Jean, nurse marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/Arlene0401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is a loser when it comes to women. What he has to rely on for comfort is beer, soppy love songs and his best friend Marco. But how far does Marco's patience go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Songs

**Author's Note:**

> I have a slipped disc and a very nasty backache and felt really really shite all day. So I decided I need some fluff, and what could be fluffier than JeanMarco fluff?
> 
> UPDATE: Dudes the most wonderful thing happened! [hacelee](http://hacelee.tumblr.com) made a fanart based on this fic! I cannot tell you how this thrills me! Look at it [here](http://glassesgirl0401.tumblr.com/post/141012184324/hacelee-marco-and-jean-based-off-of-sad) and make sure to check out the rest of the artist's blog as well, it's amazing!

Marco Bott lay in bed reading. He had propped himself up with pillows and was comfortably tucked under his duvet. His late shift at the nursing home had been particularly tiring, and his best way of relaxing and taking his mind off work was a hot shower and a book. Today, he had chosen _The Three Evangelists_ by Fred Vargas. He liked the atmosphere of her novels, which were crime stories but also great character studies, and surprisingly funny.

Marco was handsome in a boyish sort of way. He had dark eyes and a rather round nose which was covered in freckles. His dark hair had a tendency to look tousled. He had long arms and legs that made him appear gawky, but there was surprising strength in them. Due to his looks, people tended to regard him as naive or even stupid, but they couldn't be wronger. He was deep-thinking, but spoke little. What he did say, however, was worth listening to.

From the apartment next door, he heard a jangle of keys and the door opening and closing. So his next door neighbor Jean was back from his latest exploit. Marco knew he would only have to wait a short while to hear how it had turned out. And sure enough, the stereo started, playing Natasha Bedingfield.

Marco sighed. When Jean played Natasha Bedingfield or other soppy stuff, he had had his little heart trampled on again. He heard a rap on the wall and climbed out of bed. He knew what that signal meant. _Come over and keep me company. And bring beer along, if possible._

He got a sixpack from the fridge, unlocked his door and went over to Jean's apartment. He didn't bother changing, because they were used to hanging around together in pajamas or other stuff that could hardly be considered as formal.

Jean sat at his table, head buried in his arms. A cigarette was glowing in the ashtray next to him. He had left his boots in the entranceway and tossed his hooded sweater on the couch. When he heard Marco enter, he blinked over his crossed arms.

Jean was Marco's neighbor and best friend. He worked as a carpenter for a kitchen retailer, and they hung out together as much as Marco's working shifts allowed. Jean too was quite good-looking. He was tall and slim with lean muscles. His face was narrow, which had earned him the nickname "horseface". He sported a short undercut, which revealed his pierced ears, and Marco had never been able to bring himself to tell Jean that a bleached undercut was very.... 80s, to say the least.

Jean was unlucky with girls. Really unlucky. He was a good-natured, sweet guy who would share his last penny with a friend, but when it came to girls he turned into a loudmouthed, obnoxious brat. He wasn't good with words to start with, and to add to that came a strong insecurity. Which is why he was always turned down. Every single time. The more keen he was on a girl, the worse it got, and the more he was going to behave like a complete and utter idiot.

Without a word, he stretched out a hand for a bottle of beer and popped it open with his lighter. He opened another bottle for Marco, for he knew Marco had never gotten the hang of using anything other than a proper bottle opener.

"So... did you have a nice evening?" Marco asked, just to say something. Jean snorted smoke through his nose scornfully."You think I'd be here at this time if it had been any good?" He drew in smoke again. "Shit, man. I don't know what's wrong with women these days. I mean, look at me. I have a job, I don't stink, and I'm not bad to look at. What more do they want? Fuck." He drank from his beer.

It always turned out like this. Jean would go out, either looking for girls to chat up or sometimes even on a date, and then he'd return home with a broken wing and let Marco comfort him. Marco would listen. He'd say reassuring things like Jean was a great guy, and some day he'd meet the girl of his dreams, and so on. And they'd drink, and maybe play a game on the Xbox, or watch a DVD, and eventually Jean would cheer up again.

But lately, Marco was finding it hard to find comforting words for Jean. Seeing him so down and worked up about the same thing over and over again was getting to him. Hearing him talk about this chick's boobs and that chick's ass and what he'd like to do with them was getting on his nerves. He wished he could tell Jean to shut up. But he knew that'd hurt Jean, and he didn't want him to be hurt even more, so he kept silent.

Jean had settled his head on his arms again. Softly, he started singing with the next song.

_Is it possible Mr. Loveable_  
Is already in my life?  
Right in front of me  
Or maybe you're in disguise… 

Marco twitched and spilled beer over his shirt. "Ah, shit... sorry, man."

Jean chuckled. "Drunk already? That's still your first bottle."

"No, but you crooning startled me. Hold on, I'll go and change into something dry."

Jean reached over to the couch and tossed Marco his sweatshirt. "Stay here, mate. Take this. I've only worn it tonight. Should be okay."

Marco hesitated, but then took off his wet shirt and pulled on Jean's sweater instead. When his face appeared again, it was a little flushed. "Thanks."

"No worry, no worry. As long as you keep me company until we finish this sixpack."

A couple of beers and a lot of sad love songs later, Jean agreed that Marco could go, and dragged himself to bed. He was just dozing off when he heard odd sounds. A cat?, his tired brain suggested. No. No cat. Something else. It sounded like a cross between a moan and a whimper, and it was definitely rhythmical. A sneer spread on his face. Someone was obviously having a happy time.

Hold on. His eyes snapped open. His apartment was at the end of the corridor, and his bedroom was right next to Marco's, because the apartments were mirror inverted. So... he was listening to Marco? What the...? Well, without giving it too much thought, he had always assumed that Marco, like every other guy, would jerk off. Like, there was no way he could just sweat it out, was there? But of course he'd never heard or seen any of it, and they sure as hell didn't talk about it. So, seemingly Marco either hadn't done it in a long time, or he was really turned on. It sounded... hot, and Jean was beginning to feel a little flustered. Bloody hell, he was listening to his best friend jerking off, and no way this could be arousing, could it? But boy, he had never figured that Marco was capable of such sexy sounds. Before he even became aware of it, his hand had sneaked its way into his briefs and started stroking. The sounds coming through the wall became more and more urgent, and Jean's hand moved on its own accord. Shit, what a lewd little bastard. Nobody would guess he had it in him. Jean's heart raced, his breathing became ragged. He had just enough presence of mind to stop himself from moaning, because if he could hear Marco he would be heard as well, if he made any sounds. So he kept his eyes closed and concentrated on Marco's voice that came to a crescendo with a muffled half-cry which sent Jean over the edge as well.

Puzzled, he lay and listened to his own panting and heartbeat. Jesus. It would be so embarrassing having to face Marco tomorrow. He hoped his face wouldn't give anything away. Another part of him still wondered what had turned Marco on so much. Surely not his old sweatshirt, he snickered. Never in a million years would Marco be jerking off to Jean's scent, would he?

The next day, Jean had to help installing a stupid boring off-the-rack kitchen, without much additional work and fitting. So he kept his hands occupied and let his mind wander. Sure enough, he found himself pondering over Marco again. They had been friends for years now, ever since becoming neighbors. Jean had come to accept it as natural that Marco was always around to listen to him and cheer him up. But lately, he had seemed somewhat distanced and gloomy. With a pang of guilt, Jean realized what a lousy friend he was. He would always go on and on about his problems, without any regard if Marco even wanted to listen, and without offering anything in return. He'd call Marco out of bed, after a long day as an elderly care nurse, and make him stay up late. He thought of Marco's face, kind and thoughtful, of his happy smile when he'd managed to make Jean laugh. The cute way he'd hold fast to the controls and stick out his tongue in concentration when they played games. How he always grabbed a cushion when they watched a scary movie.

Jesus. Jean stood still, mouth open, screwdriver in his hand, and didn't pay attention to his colleagues making fun of him. That warm feeling when he thought of Marco. The intensity of looking forward to seeing him. The comfort, the feeling of home, when they were together. Could this actually be...?

_Is it possible Mr. Loveable_  
Is already in my life?  
Right in front of me  
Or maybe you're in disguise… 

He shook his head. He'd have to confirm. But first of all, he needed to become a better friend. Because today Marco was on the late shift again, Jean had enough time to go grocery shopping and cooking something for dinner. He wasn't a great cook, but he could do some simple dishes quite decently. By the time Marco returned home, a chicken stew was bubbling merrily and spreading its aroma. Jean paced his apartment nervously, and as soon as he heard Marco's footsteps on the corridor, he opened his door.

"Hi, Marco! I, erm... I made some chicken stew. Would you like to eat with me?"

Marco stared at him, unblinking. Then he seemed to come back to his senses, and he said: "Sure, thanks. Let me just get rid of my bag and wash my hands."

When he came in a couple of minutes later, he still seemed a little off kilter. His freckled cheeks had a slightly darker tone than usual.

"So, what is this about, Jean? You actually cooking dinner? That's a rarity."

"Well, it's freezing cold today, so I felt like stew. Plus, I thought I owe you one. More than one, actually. For always putting up with my shit."

Marco smiled, and sat down. "Smells really good", he said. "I'm starving."

During dinner, they talked of this and that, and Jean tried to watch Marco as much as possible without being too obvious about it. Thus, he soon became aware that Marco was lively and natural while they talked about work, or a movie they both wanted to watch, or games. As soon as Jean mentioned girls Marco's mouth became a thin line and his face looked strained.

When Jean got up and gathered the dishes, he decided to lay the last bait. As casually as he could he asked: "Oh, could you return my hooded sweatshirt please? I was rather cold getting to work this morning, and it's the warmest one that I've got."

He looked up to see Marco blushing furiously and opening his mouth in desperate search for an answer. So he really had jerked off using Jean's sweater. And probably dirtied it as well.

Jean took the dishes to the sink, his shaking hands letting them rattle. He returned to Marco, who was still silent, glued to the spot, and seemingly mortified. As gently as he could, Jean took his limp hands and tugged, making him get up. 

"Marco, I heard you last night", he said. Marco stared at him, wide-eyed, his face getting even redder. He tried to say something, but Jean placed a finger on his lips. "I heard you. And I touched myself listening to you, Marco." He took Marco's hands and laid them around his waist, wrapping his own arms around his shoulders. 

"I'm sorry", he said against Marco's neck. "I'm sorry for hurting you. For spouting all my bullshit on you. For not knowing what is going on at all. For being a complete and utter dickhead." Marco drew him closer and exhaled.

"Kiss me, Marco", Jean whispered. Marco turned his face towards him, and their lips met, shy and sweet. Marco held him even tighter, pressing against him, and he let his tongue flick lightly against Jean's lips. When they finally broke off the kiss, he smiled.

"So I finally made you realize your feelings", he said. "Did you enjoy the show? I did... but that was only appetizers. I feel a lot more like digging into the main course now."

Jean stared at him, dumbfounded. You could call Marco a lot of things, but naive or stupid he was definitely not.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my SNK and personal blog under [glassesgirl0401](http://glassesgirl0401.tumblr.com)


End file.
